He was always so shy.
For being well known, for being able to speak to random strangers a lot of the time (that does come with the job as champion), and for having to cooperate with many people, it was a bit awkward for May to see Steven so... reserved, introverted...
Of course, he was more than a friend to her; he was an inspiration to her and a bunch of other people. Steven was entitled to take pride in his status at the league, to show everyone just who Steven Stone is. But, he doesn't. Instead, the twenty-five year old male is anything but prideful. He seemed to be so self-effacing, and composed at what he does.
It changes whenever he's with May.
His palms would sweat slightly, sometimes, his words come out in a light stutter, and the distance between the two seemed to be gaping up with the thickest, awkward atmosphere. When they walked once, their hands would brush together ever so softly, like a wingull aligning with soft waves of the ocean. It seemed automatic, the way he would tense up at the sudden physical contact. He'd turn to the brunette, only to be greeted with a gentle, apologetic smile, and the two would act as if nothing would happen.
It wasn't long before his hand would brush up against hers, loosing his shyness in bits. Her head tilted over, about to speak up and apologize, but stopped when his large hand circled around her small one, clenching it in a benevolent fashion; one that screams caring and adoration.
"Oh! I'm sor—"
"Your hand is soft," he cut her off with a raspy voice, avoiding the gawk she was giving him; although he could see it from the corner of his eye. They continued their quiet walking, and he spoke up. "Like the purest stones, so soft."
